


The Other Brit- An Infinite Stratos Fanfiction

by galefaye



Category: IS - Fandom, IS: Infinite Stratos, Infinite Stratos
Genre: Angel Tear, Anime, Fanfiction, Infinite Stratos - Freeform, MECH, Mecha, OC, Robot, Schwarzer Regen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galefaye/pseuds/galefaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late after the events around the rogue Infinite Stratos unit Silverio Grail, the IS Academy sees another new character take to the stage; Edward Chase, a British pilot with strong ties to its own British representative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

The atmosphere of the classroom was... distinctly dubious. The girls sat in ominous silence, their gazes forward-facing, every one turned towards the figure positioned uncomfortably at the very front. The blonde male shifted from foot to foot, trying unsuccessfully not to meet any of eyes turned towards him. It wasn't that the looks the thirty-odd girls were supplying were particularly hostile, or even slightly negative, in fact they appeared to be rather pleasantly curious- but that was exactly what made the boy feel awkward. 

"Where's your introduction?" Prompted the tall black haired woman who stood with crossed arms and a stern scowl upon her face. Orimura-sensei. There was no denying her, he supposed.

Lifting his chin so as to appear at least a little confident in himself, and straightening his back to seaw himself to his full height, the blonde looked directly that person- who at the current moment in time looked rather comical, leaning forwards with blue eyes bulging. 

"My name is Edward Chase," the pilot stated in his best Japanese, dipping the whole upper body forwards by a few inches, one hand before him, in a quick bow.

The occupants of the room broke out in quiet mutterings amongst themselves, casting the occasional glance over at Edward. One of the bolder girls gave an appreciative whistle. He ignored them, his own gaze narrowed upon that person. Sometime leaned across to her and said something which was probably meant to be funny, then looked offended when she didn't even make a though she had heard her. 

Their eyes met.

She blinked first.  
'Long time no see, Cecilia.' Edward mused to himself, a smirk slowly forming upon his lips as her expression shifted between infuriated, delighted, agitated, amused, and finally settled upon one that seemed to be an attempt at all four at once. 

As the green haired woman- whose name had escaped Edward already- quieted the room with an rather insignificant cough, he made his way to a vacant seat several rows back on the right, still trying to endure the looks he knew was receiving. 

He had finally found her. The government had finally made a slip up large enough to reveal her position to him. The thought caused a soft grin to brush his lips. He wouldn't lose track of her again, not now. If it was his curse to always be second, then so be it, but separation... That was simply not an option.


	2. The German

Edward stood at the entrance to what was apparently to be his home for the next few years, a distinct feeling of apprehension roiling within his stomach. It was like butterflies, except the butterflies had all melted and turned to acid. 

The room was nice enough- in fact it was very pleasant. The large window against the far wall let faced out towards the sun, so plenty light streamed in through the glass panes, falling on two pristinely made beds pushed up against the left. To the right was a long table, set into the wall, and beside him the blonde found a small but well equipped shower room. 

It was not the state of the room, however, that had brought about the butterflies (who by now had formed an organised militia and begun to try and make their way to the unexplored regions of his throat). 

That achievement was firmly held by his roommate. 

Edward had expected a girl. To be honest, it would have been quite ridiculous to not expect a girl, in a school were they outnumbered the opposite gender by around three hundred to one. He had accepted that; they could work out any difficulties, surely, and it wasn't as though he had never come into contact with a female before. 

This, though, was nothing short of terrifying. 

She stood there like some sort of guardian, just inside the door, arms folded across her chest. A shock of straight silver-white hair fell down her back, her red and white uniform fashioned in some strange way Edward would have never even thought existed. She must have been at least a head and a half shorter than he was, and slim of build- but that made no odds. What scared the pilot so much were her eyes. No, rather, her eye; a single stern cerise orb, which seemed to him to hold the fury of gods within its depths. Her left eye was hidden from him, behind an eyepatch that then wrapped about her head. 

The British pilot had felt it the instant he stepped over the threshold, even before he saw her; an intense aggression, perhaps even hostility, all wired like a bomb that could go off without a second of warning. As soon as they locked eyes, Edward found himself paralyzed, a gorgon-like effect taking place somewhere within his body and rooting him to the spot in which he stood now. That had been fifteen minutes ago, and still the girl had not spoken a word, not made the slightest indication that she might move from her position. Even worse, the blonde found within that crimson eye the promise that if he attempted to further delve into the room, the chance that he could have several limbs irreversibly fixed in spaces they were never meant to occupy was very high. 

Then she... twitched. It was like someone had ignited a flame deep within her person, as though her statuesque form had been animated by some previously dormant spark that immediately raced through her body, bringing to life a stone sentinel that had been in deep slumber. 

In all honesty, it was the most terrifying thing the boy had ever seen.

Well, until the enormous black and red railgun materialised upon her shoulder.

"I will allow no man into my room... except my wife." 

The words were so ridiculous that they might have been comical- had it not been for the dangerous glint in that sanguine eye. That, and the huge cannon who currently had its barrel directed straight at the blonde's head. Something about the girl's strong, malignant voice seemed to resound throughout the room, though she hadn't spoken loudly. It also seemed to smash the spell that had been fixing her captive in place. 

Edward ran.

Abandoning all hope of gaining safe access to the room to which he had been assigned- along with what little luggage he had brought- the boy sprinted headlong out of the still open door and turned sharply up the corridor beyond. However, the silver-haired demon he had just left behind apparently felt that her personal space had been severely violated. There came a sound like the roar of some enormous beast, intensifying and increasing in force until Edward thought his eardrums would rupture if it continued a moment longer. As it happened, the noise ceased an instant later. For a second, there was absolute silence, utter stillness aside from the pounding of desperate feet. Then a sound like a bomb going off exploded from behind the fleeing boy, and part of a nearby wall simply disintegrated under the immense power of the railgun. The force of it threw the Briton completely off his feet, knocking him to the ground someway down the corridor, and screaming erupted from the new doorway, accompanied by a stream of volatile curses from the direction of his pursuer.

Wasting not an inch of the distance he had been thrown by the enormous shockwave, Edward rolled clumsily as he went down, and staggered back to his feet immediately, still running. He had no intention of waiting meekly to have his body dismembered by railgun fire; if he was to die today, he would make sure he was the biggest pain in the backside he possibly could be until the second he was gunned down. 

Careering around a corner, the boy found his way blocked by a female wall, no doubt hoping to get a look at his imminent demise. God, gossip travelled fast in this school. What was wrong with these women? Gritting his teeth, Edward adopted the expression that he only got when he knew it was life or death. Putting down his head, he charged at the human barricade, legs moving faster and faster until it seemed that he would not have been able to stop even if he wanted to. Despite it all, the girls stood there and watched him dumbly, apparently oblivious to the danger they were in.

At the last second, just as it appeared that his intention was to smash his way through the crowd, the boy raised his head. With an athleticism born of the simple desire to survive, he leapt. His body sailed gracelessly through the air, his hands coming down and extending out below hook like the faulty landing gear on an aircraft. They came into contact with a head and, using it as a stepping stone, pushed up to send their owner harmlessly over the top of the Great Wall of Japan and further along the corridor, where he alighted lithely upon his feet.

With a crow of triumph, Edward congratulated himself. His efforts had left him with a group of rather befuddled and rather disgruntled classmates, but that didn'tmatter. He had escaped, he had survived. There was no way the demon could imitate something like-

The wall behind him erupted in a sideways fountain of debris, pieces of stone and wood skittering across the ground. A singular wood chip slid along the floor, finally coming to rest by Edward's foot. He stared at it a while, uncomprehending. Then his gaze rose, slow and expectant, to the direction from whence it had come. 

That there, there shouldn't be a gap there, it should be solid wall, white and untarnished. Instead, it was yet another new doorway, opening up to a dizzying drop. And there, that part should be open space, that was a corridor for heaven's sake. But there, was...

A goliath.


	3. World War 3

The IS was like some sort of colossus, silhouetted against the bright corridor. Black and foreboding, it stood sentinel, striking a hulking figure that was impossible to evade. It seemed far too big, larger than any unit Edward had seen before, standing at least twice his own considerable height.

And in the middle of it all... The Demon.

"You have walked upon ground that no man should ever tread," the strained anger was clear as glass in her voice, and within that red eye burnt a fury so deep it was like gazing into Hell. The black railgun slammed down to point directly at the Briton's head once more, and the IS, directed by its pilot's own movements, took a firm stance against the imminent kick of its shot.

A sudden clarity came to the boy then, as though he had been hit full in the face by a beam of dazzling crystal light. Behind him was a large group of girls, girls who seemed not to realise when their lives were in imminent peril. That or they had a death wish, one which the railgun was going to grant in just a second, by doing exactly what he had not and carving a path through the middle of them with sheer force. So Edward had two choices. He could move, allowing the shell to kill several people, but keeping himself alive. Or he could stand here, and let himself be made significantly shorter- an option in which the shell would still probably continue its course into the crowd. The decision was a surprisingly easy one to make.

He moved.

Forwards. 

Even Edward's first foot signalled the presence of an abnormal action. As it landed it was already turning, and his entire body pirouetted like that of a dancer. That was when the ornate deep purple wrist watch began to glow. To begin with it was no more than a dull throb, which grew to a bright strove, then to a blinding flash, all in the space of a second. Like pixels coming together to make a shape upon a screen, a long, crimson blade katana formed within his outstretched hands, mid turn, rending the air a cerise crescent.  

With a precision and speed that, for most of humanity, would have been near impossible, the weapon, which went by the name of Bāningusukai, flashed around just as the railgun let out a thunderous roar- directly into the path of the oncoming shot. The red blade connected soundlessly with the metal of the shell, and passed straight through it as though it was no denser than water, so that instead of passing through Edward and barrelling into the unsuspecting girls behind him, it round exploded harmlessly before him. To the Briton, it felt like the eruption had greedily consumed all the air from about his body, leaving him with no more than an empty vacuum in which to exist.

For a long while, there was no movement in the corridor. Not a soul stirred as the dust meandered about, trying to decide whether to settle or not. When it finally did, falling to rest upon the ground, a new figure was left standing in the space previously occupied by the reckless male. Its angular silhouette came into vision first. Strangely, it did not seem quite so big as some of the other IS in the Academy; in fact, not much larger than its pilot. Slim and lacking in bulk, the unit looked fragile in comparison to the behemoth it stood before, the most prominent feature of it the pair of many thrustered wings that floated in place behind its back. It was like the shadow of a mechanical angel. 

Then, as the air cleared itself of the unwanted refuse it had been scattered with, details began to come into view. The IS was pure white in colour, the bright metal giving it no less the appearance of the angel it alluded to, with its trimmings of crimson red in various places almost garish in comparison. Bāningusukai lay in its clawed grasp. And Edward's own face, framed by a pair of valkyrie-style wings that projected from a metal band that wrapped about his head. In the navy blue eyes set below that band of silver grey was a cool, unadulterated rage.

"You... You are willing to risk innocent lives for the sake of your stupid game?" There came the sound of metal on metal as the boy brought his sword out in front, two handed, to bear upon his attacker. "That is despicable."

It was not a common occurrence that Edward picked his own fights. Usually, the only time he would go to war would be in the arena. To go any further than sparring with, or competition fighting them, would generally be unthinkable to young man- but now his blood was boiling. It felt as though someone had raised the temperature within his body by ten degrees, and the acid that had once been butterflies had now become a raging beast. 

In a burst of incredible acceleration that kicked up the unsettled dust all over again, the IS shot forwards, Bāningusukai's bloodred tip carving the air before it. Time seemed to slow to a treacle crawl, those few seconds of advance instead feeling like hours. Edward could see everything, the slightest twitch of movement, the blue flicker of the enemy's shield as she fought to halt him, and the morphing of her expression from one of joyous smugness as the realisation smacked her full in the face; the blade had passed the cerulean barrier even before it had had chance to erect itself. 

With a cry of dismay, the black IS went down, toppled as much by shock of the successful impact as the weight of the attack itself. As the pilot dragged the machine to its feet, a forceful punch cracked into the side of her head, snapping it around, followed in quick succession by a crippling knee blow to the stomach and a kick that sent her smashing into a wall several metres behind, the smaller IS throwing her as though her own black unit was half its size. 

Edward, his rage still not sated by the furious barrage of attacks, shot forwards once again, sword raised high above his head, the light reflecting of its length with a bloody hue. This time, however, the Demon was ready such a blatant, head-on assault. Raising her hands as though to shield herself, she ignited twin beam sabers. Pink spears of energy shot from the black gauntlets to cross over her body, and the katana fell it was caught between the beams, stopping the blade in its tracks. 

Upon meeting unexpected resistance, Edward was forced to pull up short, and fell back a step. The other pilot did not waste a second of her chance to gain the upper fist, and brought the Purizushi thunking down into place. Midway through reeling back, the Briton's blue eyes grew wide as he was came face-to-barrel with the enormous railgun at point blank range. To take an .80 caliber shell at this range was not something to laugh about, especially for the pilot of such a light unit as his own. 

The shot sent him hurtling backwards, to crash forcefully into first ceilings, then the floor not far away from where he had begun. He saw the black metal-encased fist swinging towards his head even as he tried to rise, and stared at it, uncomprehending, until it smacked him in the face, sending him crashing back into the ground once again. 

This time, Edward did not attempt to stand. Not even to kneel. He did not have the energy. There was a wetness upon his face, but he could find it in him to raise his hand and wipe it away. Even the power to think had become a task, and he had to labour to remember why it was he was here. Upon finding that he did not know, he gave up, and lay there in his small crater in the ground. Then something smashed down into his chest. All the breath left his lungs immediately, rushing out in a chocking gag, and he began to weeze desperately. As the boy tried to raise his head to see what was obstructing his breathing, something crashed into his head. It hurt. Both the back and the front of his head felt wet now, and strangely sticky, and though the force had gone he found that he could not raise his head again. Whatever it was hit him in the head again. Hit him again. Again. Again. It felt as though his skull was cracking, and the collisions were only getting harder. Edward had closed his eyes, so that everything was dark, but now a new darkness, a darker darkness, was seeping into his head, filling up his agonized mind, whispering reassurances, comforts, promises that if he would only let go, then everything would be okay. 

The shouts reached him just as the blackness won him over. He heard them, perhaps with his ears, or perhaps simply in his mind, but they were distant, somewhere outside all this thick shadow, and it didn't bother him so much. The colossal weight disappeared from his chest, a little fighting its way bravely to his lungs, and strong hands moved his body. The boy though, then, that maybe he should have held on just a little longer, but it was far too late now, and his consciousness plunged into a dark, endless pit.


End file.
